Unhappily Ever After
by MissBonhamCartersPoppet
Summary: Series about Glinda the Good's marriage to Sir Chuffrey. Hybrid-verse. UPDATE: DISCONTINUED
1. My Sweet

**A/N: All right, so this is the first in a series about the marriage of Glinda the Good and Sir Chuffrey. Please review, I want to see if there is any interest before I write more chapters.**

**Disclamer: Don't own anything mentioned here. Can anyone explain to me why there has to be a disclaimer on every one of your fics? I think it's pretty obvious that I'm not Gregory Maguire.**

* * *

Galinda Upland had always fought to be the very centre of attention when she was younger- she would scream, kick, cause trouble or feign injury just to have people crowd around her and make a fuss; even if the attention was negative. As she grew and matured, Galinda didn't need to try quite so hard to be the talk of the town- her astounding beauty and elevated social standing earned her all the favourable gossip she could ever have wanted. Men wanted her, women wanted to be her and parents wished their children could look more like her. She'd been educated in every necessary way- how to curl your hair, bat your eyelashes just so and so forth. No one knew where it came from, but Galinda had also a relatively quick mind. It wasn't called into use very often, but it was nice to know that beneath the glitter there may have been serious thought.

As Galinda became Glinda and then progressed to Glinda the Good, however, her need for admiration had abandoned her. She wanted to be admired by one person only, and that person had walked out of her life five years ago, never to be heard of again.

Not a note, a message, a _sign _had reached Glinda after that last parting with Elphaba- Glinda couldn't stand the thought of such utter rejection.

"_Hold out, my sweet."_

That's what she had said. Oz often wondered why their Golden Couple had never had children- Sir Chuffrey himself wondered the very same thing himself. On Glinda's wedding night her husband had practically threw himself onto the hotel suite's bed, "romantically" decorated with yellow rose petals and silk under-sheets, salivating with anticipation of taking away the virtue of the Good woman of Oz- how great was his surprise when his new wife climbed in next to him, pronounced her fatigue and swiftly fell asleep. Chuffrey didn't press the issue that night, but after two months of sleeping in separate rooms and sharing only surface kisses he confronted his beautiful wife.

"Glinda, my darling."

"Yes, husband?"

"Why will you not show me affection? If we are to consummate our marriage before I lay on my deathbed it may be wise to... Well, attempt some... Feeling."

He reached for her waist, pulling her close and trying to ignore the coldness in her sapphire eyes.

"I am not quite up to it tonight, Sir. I feel a cold coming on."

She broke from him rather snappishly, and tried to turn away from his blotched red face. How she hated the colour of it. Pink and red, with brown shadow of neglected shaving. How very different to the face of her love.

He grabbed her arm almost violently and pushed himself against her again, closer this time. Glinda could feel something hard pressed against her, and had to fight the urge to vomit. _Men..._

"Come now Glinders..." Chuffrey leaned in close to his wife, breathing hotly on her perfect face. "My sweet..."

Glinda slapped him abruptly across the face. The two stared at her hand, mirrored expressions of shock on their brows. Glinda gathered her skirts hastily and ran from the room with tears on her cheeks. She paused at the door and turned to her frozen husband.

"Don't _ever_ call me that again."

* * *

**Remember to review please. No updates unless I get some :D**


	2. The Wedding Part 1

**A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed, mightily appreciated. I've decided to write this series more as a random collection of almost one-shots, that is to say it won't always be written in the same format. Sometimes from Glinda's POV, sometimes from Chuffrey's, and I'm planning an Elphaba chappie too :D So if it doesn't make chronological sense then I'm sorry, but that's how I wanna do it.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

* * *

The walls were too white, the carpets too plush. Each portrait on the pristine hallways seemed to glare at Glinda, generations of Chuffreys looking mightily unimpressed with the newest edition to their ancient house.

House, however, hardly did it justice. The home of Glinda's husband (_her_ home, she supposed she should call it, however irksome) was more under the mould of "palace". Everything was beautiful, and large, and _perfect..._

But only on the surface. For however much Glinda had enjoyed decorating and Galindafying her dream-home, she could not ignore its one outstanding fault: Chuffrey himself.

When Glinda had heard of her being arranged to marry such a prestigious man, she was ecstatic. There would be balls and jewels and a gorgeous, huge house for her to prance around like a queen within. She had glided down down the aisle on that sunny Autumn afternoon in a dress that would not only light up a small town in Africa with the amount of glitter she had bestowed upon it, but probably feed that town for an extended period of time too were it to be re-sold. Glinda was never prone to subtlety in her attire- and when let loose with unrestrained funds from her mysterious fiancee, and the glorious prospect of a public wedding to plan, she had truly outdone not only herself, but quite possibly every single bride before her, when it came to her wedding dress. The palest shade of rose-pink, it was covered in thousands of tiny sparkling crystals that, when the light caught them, deflected back into the world a rainbow of exquisite colour. The dress' satin bust sat tightly around the tiny blonde's form, showing off her perfect curves. Her pale neck was exposed, and her skin glowed almost as brightly as her bedazzled dress in the mild sunlight. She was a vision, and as she stood next to her new husband after the vows had been exchanged the contrast between the two could not have been more pronounced- she, startling as an angel; he, a faint red in colouring and a wiry beard that reminded Glinda of a weathered rat's tail. Everyone soon decided, however, that Glinda the Good had enough prettiness for the whole room- her husband, even if he were the handsomest man in Oz, could never live up.

_Do you, Lady Glinda of the Upper Uplands, take Sir Chuffrey as your lawful wedded husband?_

Glinda wished, later on, that she had considered that question more carefully. She had stared into the blotched face of her new husband and gracefully exclaimed a well-rehearsed, "I do."

_I do._

Two little words- how could two little words ruin a life that, at one point, held such promise? Glinda was fresh out of Shiz when she was married off- fresh out of Shiz and still heartbroken. She was happy to marry this man, whoever he would be, if only for the fact that he was a man. Safe, politically correct, what was expected. It wouldn't do for Glinda, who had so much expectation (in marriage that is to say) heaped upon her dainty little shoulders, to be found having illicit thoughts about a woman. Especially not _that_ woman.

Elphaba had disappeared- everyone had wondered where she went, but no one had cared. The fact that she was gone was goo enough for all. Of course, Nanny and Nessarose were understandably devastated, and Boq and Fiyero missed her likewise, but Glinda felt alone in her constant pining. Who would guess that every night Glinda was forced to fall asleep in her now-empty dorm she would climb out of her bed and sneak across to Elphaba's, comforted by the Witch's familiar smell and lingering presence? And when Nanny decided to do Glinda a favour and strip Elphie's bed on linen, who could have seen through the blonde's impeccable smile of thanks to the agony and heartbreak within?

She held out; she held out in body from her disgusting husband, and she held out hope of Elphaba's return. For a while.

And when they returned to the Chuffrey house, the bride and bridegroom, and Chuffrey carried his wife over the threshold as is tradition, she hated how large his hands felt as they brushed her legs. She hated his kiss. She hated the confusion in his eyes when she did not give herself to him later that night. She hated that she could give no explanation as to why she could not touch him- but most of all she hated Elphaba for allowing her to give herself away to someone so undeserving.

* * *

**Reviews please :D**


	3. The Wedding Part 2

**A/N: Chapter 2 written from Elphie's perspective. Hope you're all enjoying it :D Very short, but I'm busy writing the next chap which is longer, I promise.**

**Disclaimer: It's all mine. Yup. Not.**

* * *

Elphaba couldn't stay away. Just a peek, she told herself. Just one glance couldn't possibly hurt anyone. The crowds would be huge, with almost the entire population of the Emerald City lining the streets with flowers and pieces of ribbon clutched between their grubby hands. They all wanted to witness some of the glamour of the upper class; they all wanted to be there as Lady Glinda arrived in her astounding frock. They wanted distraction from their lives- from the hidden tyranny of the Wizard.

Elphaba stood in the shadows, right at the very back of the screaming crowd, her black cape clutched tightly around her, a scarf at her mouth. Her eyes were the only bit of her body that was exposed- eyes that darted nervously around, unused to standing so openly and so unprotected.

Then she arrived, and Elphaba lost all sense of fear.

She looked, to Elphaba's under appreciation of fashion, like a cake. A particularly ridiculous cake, at that. Customary pink, of course. And glittery. All around people were jeering, whistling protectively. _They think she's theirs_, Elphaba realised. Glinda belonged to Oz and its people now- she was sold into their service. _But she was mine once..._

None of that mattered. The crowd around her ooh-ed and ah-ed their appreciation of the dress, but Elphaba was far too preoccupied with the figure beneath. She was smiling, and maybe that was enough. The green girl's memories (and there were many of those) had not done justice to Glinda. She was, if possible, more beautiful than before- if perfection could ever better itself, then this would be the perfect (of course) example.

But Elphaba couldn't look for long. She needed to see Glinda, to make sure she was still okay; but she would not torture herself by teasing her mind with what she could have had. Just to see that Glinda was safe, Glinda was happy- _to make sure that Glinda had forgotten about Elphaba_.

Glinda had everything she'd ever dreamed; a rich husband, rich society, and a big rich house. Who cared if Elphaba thought constantly of her friend? Glinda had moved on, and that was the whole point.

_Wasn't it?_

That was the reason Elphaba had never returned after that last, tragic, unforgettable goodbye- she knew that Glinda would carry on with her life... Elphaba and all they had had was just a phase. The green woman turned her face into her high dark collar, and ran for the solitude of her hideout.

And though that day was a wedding, for two women present, it felt more like a funeral.

**

* * *

**

Sorry for the angst. I seem incapable of writing happy chapters. I think someone left a review saying that it's "hurts my heart, like a train wreck but I can't look away.". Angst angst angst. And stuff actually happens in the next chappie, so bear with me :D


	4. The Wizard's Ball

**A/N: Thank thank thank you all for the reviews and alerts and faves! You make me a very happy little Gelphie shipper :D Like I promised, this one's a bit longer and there's a bit more action. Warning, teeny little swearword and a bit of implied violence. But I reckon you can handle it ;D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places mentioned here.**

* * *

She was always flinching. Flinching away from his hands, flinching away from his smell. Flinching away from her womanly responsibilities.

Sir Chuffrey was a well respected man in his circles. A savvy, ruthless businessman, his useful connections and thorough disregard for the lower class had landed him right in the good books of the Wizard of Oz- they shared a passion for dominance and thirst for power.

The Wizard had commended Chuffrey on his marriage to Glinda.

"_I heard of your union with Lady Glinda Upland, Sir Chuffrey." the silluette behind the veil muttered to his dinner guest._

"_Yes, Your Highness."_

"_I remember her vaguely. Pleaded to me once in her youth, accompanied by a strong-willed girl of unusual colouring. Elphaba, I think it was. The disappeared third Thropp descending. That invalid sister of hers is causing quite a stir in Munchkinland, of course. Let us hope that your new wife has not been influenced by her acquaintances, Sir Chuffrey."_

"_No, Your Highness."_

"_Pretty little thing, isn't she? You're a lucky man, Chuffrey. Excellent in bed, I imagine?"_

_And because he had nothing else to say, Chuffrey muttered, "Yes, Your Highness." ._

Lies, lies! That bitch of a wife of his, cold as dry-ice and more dangerous. Incompetent and useless woman! She refused to give him what was dutifully owed, as his wife and as an inferior!

Tonight was another of the Wizard's palace balls. Chuffrey and Glinda sat in hostile silence as they drove through the crowd of grubby admirers and their carriage passed through the intimidating gates of the palace walls. All around there were businessmen and their wives, all dressed to the nines and flaunting their individual celebrity. The dresses were more extravagant than those seen at award shows, and many of the women seemed vacant of any expression due to the amount of collagen pumped into their snobby faces. Glinda stood out in the crowd, as she was born to do, sparkling in an aqua-coloured floor-length ballgown, a ridiculous tiara balancing precariously atop her bouncing, almost golden curls. The women stared, the men stared. Their thoughts were as one as Oz's most beloved couple made a birth through the crowd and ascended the palaces emerald-specked marble steps: _Lucky bastard._

Glinda waved and smiled and clung to her husband's arm, relishing in the attention and adoration. She tinkled that irritatingly false laugh, and thanked every one of the women who complimented her dress, and had the good grace to blush as men introduced themselves and lifted her delicate fingers to their lips. They passed into the entrance hall, through to the dining room and the impossibly long table at which Glinda and Chuffrey, along with all those lucky enough to have garnered an invitation, were deemed to dine. They sat at their allotted places, and witnessed men around them fighting for the right to sit near Glinda, their wives looking affronted and jealous.

They made Chuffrey sick.

Suddenly the lights dimmed, and the infamous screen behind which the Wizard sat and conducted all of his dinner parties was wheeled in. A hush fell over the party and all stood once again as the outline of a man marched in and seated himself as the shadow table behind the screen. The gentlemen and their wives waited until the Wizard was seated, then sat down themselves. They held their breath as one, and soon enough the curiously chilling voice of the ruler of Oz rang out across the dining hall.

"Welcome, esteemed guests and followers of this Great new Oz. I have called us together tonight not just to eat, drink and be merry- which is often the same as drink, to be sure- but also because I have an important and dangerous announcement to inform you all of. However, I shall wait until you are all sufficiently comfortable and well fed before we move onto business. Enjoy your food, and hope that you can keep it down later."

Typically Wizard. Vauge, questionable, uncomfortably cryptic.

Five whiskeys later, and the room was roaring with the banter of drunken aristocrats; the very air seemed thick with shouts and later-regretted speeches. Sex was everywhere, hunger in the eyes of the men and women alike. The table was spewn with forgotten roasts and lonely uneaten vegetables, the royal green tablecloth stained beyond repair by spilt alcoholic beverages of questionable effect.

"Chuffrey!" slurred a beefy, purple-faced man sitting alongside Glinda's husband. "Why's you not taking 'vantage of this festive 'casion?" the yound woman sitting on his lap giggled drunkenly and slapped the man on him expansive forearm.

"I means to say," he continued, "that is if I had your wife," he gestured suggestively to Glinda, "I'd not be wasting my time with this one..."

The woman looked affronted and hit him again, harder. Glinda looked ashamedly down at her hands, a steady pink blush rising in her cheeks. She had raised nothing but water to her lips the entire evening, and had retreated into her shell more and more as the night wore on and the room around her fell into disarray, over themselves and each other. Chuffrey's manliness appeared offended by the drunk's comment, and in a moment of violent disregard grabbed his wife and pulled her in-affectionately onto his lap, and dug his fingers into her waist, hard enough to leave a bruise. Glinda winced in pain, and tried not to cry out her protest. He kissed her repeatedly on the neck, ignoring how stiff her form had become at the contact. People had abandoned their conversations in favour of staring; they had never seen physical interaction between the two in public.

"Tell them, _Glinders_," he growled into her collarbone, "tell them what a cold hearted _bitch_ you really are."

The room had fallen completely silent now. Glinda was seething, breathing heavily through her teeth, livid and embarrassed. She pushed away from Chuffrey and broke from his clutches. She faced the table of her staring peers, and announced in a shaking voice that she would be excused for a moment. She left through the high dining room doors, with the glare of a hundred eyes on her back. Chuffrey slid his chair back as she left and stumbled to his feet with violence and disillusion in his eyes. The audience (for that is what they must be called) looked slightly frightened at his fury and went quietly back to their drinks.

"Come back here, _wife_! Have I said you could be excused?" he roared, slamming the door she had just left through open and marching down the adjoined passageway after her. He ran blinded through the halls searching for his prey. He entered a room at random, and pinned her tiny, helpless figure up against the wall of the restroom she had taken refuge in.

"Calm down, you baffoon!" she choked from between his smothering fingers, the courage of her words not supported by the plain terror in her eyes.

_He's going to do it this time. I can't believe he's really going to do it. I'm sorry Elphie, I tried to wait. I tried._

The drink had taken him over, replaced the man who had married her with a beast; a beast who was ready and willing and thoughtless enough to do anything.

_Did he bring a knife? Or will he just choke me? I've heard that's an okay way to go- they say you go to sleep just before you die._

She was suspended in the air by the force of his grip, tiny legs kicking frantically as her brain screamed for air. Suddenly he let her fall, strode over to the still-open bathroom door and locked it, an ominous click that scared Glinda almost as much as the crazed look in her husband's eyes.

_Why is he locking that? What, he doesn't want witnesses? What the hell does he plan on doing with my body afterwards, then?_

He turned slowly, looking for all the world like a predator stalking a particularly evasive buck.

"I've tried to be reasonable, you heartless monster of a woman. I've given you chances, I've made allowances. But there is only so long, there is only so much I can take."

His voice was disturbingly calm as he unzipped the front of his trousers, his face a mask of determination as he advanced on his shaking wife.

_No. Please, no..._

_***_

_"And so, ladies and gentlemen, as you can all see this woman- whom we must now refer to as the Wicked Witch of the West, is inconceivably dangerous and undoubtedly the cause of all wrongdoing and wickedness that has penetrated our glorious Oz of late. I trust you will all alert everyone you can in your respective sectors to the imposing threat that this woman, if we can call her that, poses to the advancement of society in Oz. Spread the word! She is Wicked, and wickedness deserves to be effectively eliminated- before it is too late."_

**

* * *

**

So.... Please leave a review! I'll give you a... Bottle of Miricle Elixer (the green one, that is- not Pirelli's) ;D


	5. Baby Blues

**A/N: Well, here's the next installation of my frightfully (yawn) exciting series. Thanks to my reviewing people, you all get a bottle of Green Elixer :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked or The Wizard of Oz. Anyone wanna sell them to me, though?**

* * *

Glinda sat, perched on the smooth white window ledge that took up the majority of the western-facing wall in her bedroom. Western-facing; of course- hope lived on, even in times like these when Glinda felt as though hope had abandoned her every bit as much as Elphie had.

The room was brightly lit with an agelic white light that flowed through the open window, a gentle breeze cooling Glinda's bare feet and exposed chest. And her stomach. Glinda layed a hand tentatively over her swollen belly.

A baby. A baby? How was she supposed to react to this? A child borne of love? Not quite. This growing being was an awful reminder of her failure, her loss of innocence, her husband's atrocious deed. How would he feel when she told him that he was to be a father? A violent drunk; an abusive, possessive spouse; yes. But a parent?

He would hope for a son, she knew. Someone to carry on the "noble" Chuffrey line. A boy for Chuffrey to take hunting and teach about the faults and inferiorities of women, have manly talks and make business deals with. A boy to grow up and become his father- and lord knows Oz did not need another like her husband.

She wanted a girl. She always had. Since before Shiz, when Glinda dreamed of her prosperous future with a handsome husband she had pictured her child: a sweet blonde girl to match the beauty of her mother, a life-size doll for Glinda to dress up and parade just as her own mother had done.

She still hoped for a girl now, even when the rest of her dreams had been shattered so effectively. She had lost her honor, her freedom and any chance of being with the one she truly loved- confined as completely as a prisoner in her beautiful gilded cage and constrictions of society. She had been stripped of all her independence, her right to dream; but perhaps she could still cling to the hope of that perfect little girl that she had seen so many times when she had let her vivid imagination take over.

The child would be Glinda's salvation, her becon of light when she had no-where else to turn. It would be half hers- and though it would have no green to its complexion she would love it as though it did.

Glinda stroked her belly softly, and whispered a small song to the bump beneath her translucent layers of skin.

_Somewhere... Over the rainbow, way up high_

_There's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby_

_Somewhere, skies are blue_

_And dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true..._

"And they'll come true for us too, poppet. No matter how much of a monster your father is, I'll love you still. You will be my Elphie, sweetheart. I will call you Fabala. My sweet, sweet Faba."

And she glanced out from the ledge, surveying the distant mountains for the hundredth time that day. She felt as though Elphaba was watching, Elphaba was there. And when she finally decided to show herself, Glinda would be ready.

**

* * *

**

Tell me what you think, please!


	6. Birth

**A/N: Not sure how much I like this chapter. Oh well. Hope you guys do. Look out for a cameo by one of favourite characters of all time :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned here.**

* * *

"_Elphie?"_

"_Yes, Galinda?"_

"_When I have children, and you have children, they'll be friends too, right?"_

"_I certainly hope so. That is, if I could ever find someone willing to_** have**_ children with me. Green is not exactly the most sought-after chromosome in a budding mother."_

"_I think your skin is beautiful- and anyone who says otherwise needs to have their eyes checked."_

"_You would say that, my sweet."_

_And Elphaba gathered Galinda into her arms and held her tight. Neither of them spoke again till dawn- the silence was too beautiful and painful for either of them to dare breaking._

Glinda awoke in a cold sweat, fierce agony gripping her abdomen like a particularly venomous snake. She screamed- from the pain, from the terror of what she knew must be coming, and from the vividness of her dream. It was a sign, she knew- every night this week she had been haunted by memories disguising themselves as dreams; dreams of forgotten conversations and goodbyes and things as ordinary as picnics- but tonight was different. This one had felt so _real... _She could still feel the heat from the fire that had been burning, she could still smell the powerful scent of the perfumed oils Elphie used to use to wash herself, and her heart was beating as fast as it had that night- the night that Glinda had confronted her feelings.

And they were talking about children.

A uniform-clad maid ran into Glinda's bedroom at the sound of her mistress's screams, and saw the puddle of water pooled between her legs.

"Sweet Oz..." she mumbled. "THE BABY'S COMING! IT'S COMING! CALL THE DOCTOR!"

Instantly five others ran in, identical looks of excitement and fear across their faces.

"It'll be alright, Lady Glinda," one maid had run over to the bed, and tried to hold Glinda's writhing figure down.

"Elphie..." she moaned through clenched teeth, arching her back in pain.

"She's delirious! Where's the doctor?" one cried.

"I'm here, I'm here!" in ran a frazzled-looking young man of light complexion and bright, intelligent blue eyes.

"Dr. Cohen! She's in pain, we need an epidural- she's not strong enough to do this without help!"

"No hope for that, ladies, I'm afraid," he spoke while simultaneously snapping on white latex gloves and trying to position himself in a kneeling position in front of the still-screaming woman. "She's already nine centimeters dilated- the baby's coming NOW."

"What's going on?" Glinda shook her head. "No, no, no, no, no... It's too early! Too early!"

"It's not due for another two months..." one of the maids explained to the confused cook who had sideled up against the wall to watch the show.

"Where's my husband... That good-for-nothing may as well make himself useful and let me strangle him..."

"I want you to breathe with me Mrs. Chuffrey. In, out; in, out- slow, slow, there we go..."

"DON'T CALL ME MRS. CHUFFREY!" she screamed, half-crazed.

"Okay Lady Glinda, alright, it's okay, just breathe..."

The doctor grasped Glinda's legs and called over two maids to hold them steady as he prepared to catch the child.

"Now I need you to PUSH!"

***

"How is my wife, doctor?" Chuffrey had stumbled in from a night out with one of his mistresses to find a houseful of worried staff and the occasional faint scream from Glinda's bed chamber.

Dr. Cohen surveyed Chuffrey critically over the top of his spectacles, and wrapped his striped scarf tighter around his neck. Strange, thought Chuffrey, to be wearing a scarf in the height of summer.

"She'll be just fine, Sir. Plenty of rest and pampering. It was a, uh, difficult birth however. Were you aware that your wife was pregnant with twins?"

"Twins? No! I just thought she was gaining an exceptional amount of weight."

"Very perceptive of you. Unfortunately I have to inform you that while your wife did a marvelous job in birthing, one of the newborns was born still. Your little girl, however, is of perfect form and weight. I believe your wife has named her Fabala." He paused for a moment, then added as an afterthought, "Quite sweet, I think."

Chuffrey sank into a chair, his face frozen with shock.

"Girl?"

"Yes, girl." Cohen repeated slowly, as if explaining something to an invalid. "It was a pigeon pair, a girl and a boy. The umbilical chord wrapped around the neck of the male during birth. I'm terribly sorry." He didn't look sorry.

"Girl...." Chuffrey didn't bother turning to thank the doctor as he made his way down the passage to his own room. He didn't stop to ask his wife how she was feeling; he didn't go near when he heard the cries of his daughter. He slammed the heavy polished door that led through to his study, and left the rest of the house in an eerie, awkward silence, broken only by the muffled sounds of new life- and the uncomfortable prospect of its future.

**

* * *

**

Review. You know you want to.


	7. My Valentine

**A/N: I'm a sop for Valentine's Day. Very sad, but true. Enjoy this one :D I liked writing it, so yeah. That you for all the positive reviews, I love you guys!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my dear little Fabala, whom I love as dearly as any of my creations.**

* * *

It was such a beautiful day. The kind of day that you feel cannot really exist, a dream-like quality possesses it, almost convincing you that you are not, in fact, experiencing conscious life- every moment is spent in anticipation of waking; even if you know you're not dreaming. Galinda had rose on this day, February the fourteenth, the day of St. Valentine, to a room that glowed brightly from the influx of pale sunlight from her window. She rose slowly, the cream of her silken dressing-gown matching perfectly both the meticulous white wallpaper and bedding of the suite and her porcelain features. The room was an unbroken, perfect white wonderland of beauty- dust particles danced like glittering fairies in the beams of light before Glinda's eyes. She glided slowly across the thick cream coloured carpet to the huge window. She undid the clasps and quietly opened the frame, leaning out of it carefully. She took a small intake of breath, and whispered softly to the Western Mountains:

"Happy Valentine's Day, my sweet. I hope you think of me."

"Mommy! Mommy! Look what Daddy bought me to wear today!"

Fabala Eden Chuffrey sprang unannounced into her mother's bedroom, destroying the last of her quiet morning contemplation. She sported a new puffed dress in a bright, alarming aqua, decked with sequins and frills. She twirled experimentally, finishing a rotation and struck a pose with her thin arms on her hips, collar-bones thrust out. Glinda laughed.

"My my, Faba, that really is quite something. Come here so that I can see properly."

The little girl ran obligingly forward, presenting herself to her mother. Glinda eyed her skeptically, narrowing her eyes.

"Don't you like it, Mummy?" Fabala was anxious, her previous bravado evaporated at the slightest criticism. _Just like me,_thought Glinda sadly.

"Oh course I like it, darling. I love it. I was just thinking about how soon I'll be fighting off all of those handsome young men falling head over heels for my gorgeous little girl."

"Oh Mum!" Faba giggled. "I'm only eight, for Oz's sake!"

"I know sweetheart. My spectacular little eight year old. My baby girl." Glinda pulled Faba onto her lap, and they snuggled together sweetly for a few minutes, mother whispering a quiet, sad song about a rainbow to her spell-bound daughter. They broke apart, and Faba was tactful enough to ignore the small tear on Glinda's pale cheek.

"Shall we go for a picknick in the grounds today, Mummy?" Faba asked, standing up and pulling her mother's tiny wrists as she dragged her off the edge of the bed.

"If you wish, love. Go down to the kitchen and instruct Kristina to prepare us a basket."

The girl disappeared round the door, her shining blonde ponytail bouncing as she skipped. _Such a happy little thing, _thought Glinda wistfully S_o young. So unblemished. So whole._

Glinda dressed carefully, choosing a delicate sundress in shades of the palest pink, paired with white stockings and tiny ballet pumps. _Who do I dress for anyway?_ _Certainly not that husband. Oz pray he's out of the house today. I'm sure he has women to serenade. Let him neglect this household a while longer. Today I need time to reflect._

***

She sat beneath the bright green trees, lounging comfortably on an expansive picnic blanket that was spread out over the soft summer grass. Flowers were everywhere- poppies in hues that Glinda didn't even know were possible, equally colourful insects buzzing about submissively over them. Faba was a sunlit silhouette in the distance, the shadow of a thin girl in a frock weaving daisies into a chain. Against the shadowy mountains in the distance she looked like an angel. _And she is. My angel._

"FA-BA!" Glinda called to her daughter. "I'm going for a walk, alright? Keep playing safely please, I don't want you anywhere near that river. I'll be back soon!"

Fabala nodded absently and went back to her daisy chain. _Always far away in her own dreamland._

Glinda walked off in a contrasting direction from the looming white mansion. Ten, fifteen minutes were passed in silent strolling, the only sounds those of the natural wood around her and the crunching of leaves beneath the blonde's feet.

_Valentine's Day. Another Valentine's day passed in sadness and solitude. The enormous influx of admiration cards and flowers that had arrived via the post this morning was the same as every other year- and yet somehow, as I sorted through it, I thought that maybe this year she would send something. A letter, a flower, a lock of hair for heaven's sake- anything to show that she is alive and still thinks of me. But no. Simply the usual fanatical obsessive "love" tokens that arrive year after bitter year. _

Glinda sped up unconsciously, her pace and breathing quickening as she dwell-ed.

_Hold out, hold out, hold out for WHAT? She would come back. We would meet again. All lies? All spurr of the moment? I wish she had never come into my life. I have my Faba now- and perhaps I could appreciate her fully if I didn't have to endure the overwhelming longing I feel whenever she expresses a quality that is so like you. I blame you for this._

She was running now, but to where and for what purpose none could tell. She ran to rid herself of the resentment she felt, to express her long-bottled anger.

_Fabala!_

Glinda stopped abruptly and span on her heel, realising with alarm that she had strayed inadvisedly far from her daughter, and that she had been away for over an hour already. Terror gripped her broken heart like a fiery python.

_Something's terribly wrong._

This time she ran with purpose and real tears, crying out her daughter's name frantically as she headed towards their forgotten picnic. Faba was nowhere to be seen.

"Fabala! Faba! This isn't funny darling, Mummy needs to know where you are! Answer me!" Glinda screamed, the strain of her volume cracking the high pitch of her voice. She searched the river banks, and found to her dismay a floating daisy chain in the middle of the stream. Thoughts of dresses forgotten as the Patron of Goodness plunged headfirst into the ice cold water, arms flailing in what could only be the hope of finding a tiny body. She rose to the surface, gasping and trembling, her golden hair plastered messily across her forehead, eyes wide and lips twitching with cold and fear. She clutched her sides and stumbled back onto the bank. Then she saw them.

Directly beneath one of the huge oaks that Glinda was so proud to have on her grounds, sat two entwined figures, one tiny and blonde, wrapped in a thick dark cape, asleep or unconscious- the other sitting in a strong and possessive position, crouched protectively over the smaller one, green arms wrapped tightly around Fabala.

Glinda ran, for the umpteenth time that day, to where they were. Relief at seeing her daughter had given way almost immediately to a new fear- that couldn't possibly be her. But as she drew closer and slowed, there was no mistaking the bright skin tone and ebony curtain of hair that swung around Elphaba's sharp features. She looked up and caught Glinda's stunned gaze. She stood in silence, laying the motionless girl upon the emerald grass.

They stared. Glinda took in each forgotten or changed contour of Elhpaba, praying that this wasn't a dream; Elphaba stared uncertainly at Glinda, hoping for something she couldn't define. And then they were together- in touch and taste, joyously linked through there moving bodies, neither knowing nor caring what would happen when they broke apart. They were together, and as the wind and the ocean they moved, spurred by the heartbreak and longing of unexplained years and distance. Green hands gripped soft golden curls passionately- and then Elphaba yelped in pain and sprang back..

"Your hair... It's wet."

Small welts were forming on the Witch's slim fingers. Glinda reached for them and brought the blisters to her lips.

"I'm sorry." she whispered.

"No. I'm sorry." They both knew that Elphaba was no longer talking about the burns.

They looked at each other again, each still flushed from their initial outburst of passion, Glinda in particular blushing high in her cheeks.

"You saved her." Glinda mumbled, guesturing vagely to her sleeping child. "How were you there?"

The Witch looked abashed.

"It's Valentine's Day, Glinda. I wanted to spend it with my Valentine."

Glinda's lips parted in shock. "You were watching?"

And Elphaba stepped closer to her frail-looking lover, capturing her in a circle of peace.

"Always."

**

* * *

**

Reviewers get Valentine's Day cookies :D


	8. Elphaba

**A/N: Looking at the Gelphie concept from a different angle, I suppose. Through the eyes of Faba. This is only half of my Fabala POV thingy, so if it feels unfinished then that's why. Thanks to all those who review, and to those who favourite and alert but don't review... Tut tut :D**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. La duh.**

* * *

It was wonderful at first. That first afternoon out in the grounds, so much laughing and hugging and chatter. Mum was so happy, so different, so alive. She really does have the most extraordinary smile. She smiles and everything else seems to pale, ashamed that it can't match up to her. And that day was full of smiles. For the first while.

Elphaba. That's what I'd been instructed to call her. I'd tacked on an "Auntie" in the beginning, but the look of horror from Elphaba told me that she probably didn't like that title.

So it was just Elphaba. It wasn't lost on me how similar our names were. Mum had always told me my namesake was someone spectacular and beautiful, someone she knew in another life. But Elphaba was green. Green, like the Wicked Witch of the West. I asked whether Elphaba was related to the horrible woman. Mum shushed me quickly, and Elphaba responded with a crooked grin. I'd left it at that.

They spoke of old school days, and classes, and once of a professor called Dillamund, or something like that. It was the only time they seemed subdued, and Mum changed the topic. In fact, she seemed to do nothing but steer away from serious conversation. She prattled on non-stop about what she'd done since their last parting- I'd not exactly caught how that went about- talking about balls and dresses and her social standing. Elphaba seemed to listen, but she concentrated more on looking than hearing. Her eyes never left Mum- it was a look that I knew by theory, but never really seen in action; the kind of infatuated gaze that men afforded women they loved. It didn't make sense that this woman would be looking at Mum like that. It made even less sense that Mum, when pausing for air, seemed to reciprocate that look. And her breathy sentences, her fluttering eyelashes, her constant blush. I didn't understand where my sad, graceful parent had disappeared to.

They told me that Elphaba had to be kept a secret. She wasn't allowed to be here, it wasn't prudent for Mum to see her.

"God forbid the husband should know." Mum had muttered darkly under her breath. Elphaba nodded in agreement, but there was a small smile lingering on the side of her pointed mouth.

"Yes, I rather doubt he would _approve_." I wondered what she meant.

When it was dark, and that special kind of sunlight had retreated back into whatever home it went to when the moon took over, we began walking back to the house. I tried to ignore when Elphaba took Mum's hand. It looked so wrong, the green clashing with Mum's flawless creamy skin.

She never held Daddy's hand like that, with fingers intwined. Her smile didn't look like that around him either.

We snuck back into the house through the kitchen door- Mum told me to pretend that it was a spy adventure. I tried not to look sulky, but I couldn't stop glaring at them. I didn't quite understand what was going on, but I did know that I didn't like the doey look in Mum's eyes. I liked even less the realisation that Elphaba would be staying with Mum.

"Shouldn't we ask Daddy first?" I asked, shocked.

"No, Faba darling. I've already told you, Daddy can't find out."

"Yes, Fabala. Listen to your Mother." I wished she wouldn't speak to me.

"But... Why?"

"That's just the way it has to be Fabala." Mums voice was intense, her eyes bore into me like a hot torch. She sounded commanding- but I thought I heard a spark of fear in her voice too. Elphaba shared a small glance with Mum, and tightened her claw-like grip on her hand.

It was too much though. Later that night, when I was in bed, sitting quietly, petrified of what had become of my mother, still scared from my near-drowning adventure (of which I remembered little), I wanted to go to Mum's room. I dragged my quilt along the deserted hallway, and paused outside of her door. I could hear whispering, and heavy breathing. Though nothing could have warranted the feeling, I felt betrayed. Mum was _mine_, and Elphaba's invasion should not have been allowed to happen. They were right- it _was_wrong for Elphaba to be here. Fueled by a sudden fury, I flung the cream-coloured door open.

"Fabala!"

They were sitting too close together. Mum's hair had been let down, her golden curls were scattered around her shoulders, contrasting with the pale pink of her loose nightgown. Elphaba had removed her cloak, and her hair too had been released from the confines of her tight plait. It was obvious that they had just sprung apart- Mum was still adjusting her gown and Elphaba had swung her legs awkwardly off the bed, a hasty cover-up.

"Fabala, darling, sweetheart, go back to bed. Everything's all right here." The sentence stank of desperation. Mum was advancing towards me, her eyes pleading for me to go. She tried to lay her hands on my shoulders, and I flinched away in disgust.

"You're lipstick's smudged." I spat before throwing a look of hate towards the green daemon on my mother's bed, and retreating out of the doorway.

"Fiesty one, isn't she?"

I heard Mum sigh. "She'll get used to you."

"Maybe it would be better for me to go."

I agreed silently.

"Don't be ridiculous. The child I've had for eight years. You I've missed for twelve."

And that's when I began to sob.

**

* * *

**


	9. Gone

**A/N: Short. Kind of a filler, bit boring, but it's leading to something else. I'll get back to Elphie and Glinda soon, don't worry! Btw, if anyone has any plot bunnies hopping around in their brains, I would greatly appreciate some input!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

The curtains were drawn close, the air stifling. The room smelled strongly of leather, old books and, most overpoweringly, whiskey. I felt so out of place in my drooping white nightie, surrounded by such deep polished wood and grandeur. The study's occupant sat at his antique desk, head looking morbidly suspended in a grey cloud of tobacco smoke.

"Daddy?"

A grunt of reply.

"Can I speak with you please?"

Another grunt. I approached the desk, gripping the back of the straight-backed chair that fronted Sir Chuffrey's desk. Stepping cautiously in front of it, I climbed with difficulty onto the raised lap. I looked into my father's face for the first time in days. His eyes were ringed, beard overgrown and shabby. His already pink face was tinged red with heat and frustration. I considered leaving, but the thought of Mummy kept me there- she may not know it, but she needed my help now.

"What is it that you want, Eden?" He spoke curtly, businesslike. I had been long used to him refering to me by my second name- he didn't approve of Mum naming me without him having a say in the matter. It was something they still rowed about... When they were speaking at all, that is.

"Are you all right Daddy? You look a bit, um, tired." I spoke to my folded hands. I don't know how other daughters spoke to their fathers, but my Daddy had always been a little bit intimidating. He is a ghostlike presence in the house- always there, at dinners and during the afternoons; but out of reach somehow, buried behind the Oz Times or writing important letters of business to... Well, whoever he wrote them to. Still, he was always someone to respect and look up to with quiet admiration- the man before me seemed a mere shadow of his former self, changed, defeated.

He sighed leisurely.

"It's that bloody Witch. The Wizard had us track her all the way down into the Vinkus- bloody dangerous country, and so uncivilised too- and we turn up to find that she's gone. Poof. Vanished. Some kid, freaky name, "Nore" or something barbaric, told us she was off to find her never-forgotten "true love". Bunch of codswallop, if you ask me. Still, His Highness is furious, and us upper men have to bear the brunt of it. Why am I telling you this anyway? You're just a stupid kid."

He seemed to be talking to himself now, but I didn't have enough blood left in my head to notice.

_Are you related to The Wicked Witch of the West, Auntie Elphaba?_

_Hush, Faba!_

And now she was here. All the way from the Vinkus. How many green women could Oz possibly hold? And she was evil enough, that's for sure.

_Daddy can't know, Fabala._

Maybe I understood the intensity of her words now.

"Eden?" Daddy was staring down his broad nose at me. "I _said_, what is it that you wanted?"

"I..I..Have to tell you something Daddy. But I can't. Not now."

"Always mumbling on about nothing, just like your bloody mother. Honest to Oz, I don't know how I let that witch raise you..."

"Daddy! Don't talk about Mummy like that! She's NOT a witch!" I was screaming now, the pressure in my head combing with misplaced anger and a fresh trail of terror.

"Get out. Get out! I will not be spoken to like this in my own house."

"There's a woman in Mum's room!"

His face fell suddenly, my hands sprung upwards, covering my criminal mouth.

"What do you mean, a woman?"

I sat stock still, my whole body squirming for release from this leather-cased prison.

"Is your mother... With a... What do you mean, _woman_?"

He shook my shoulders roughly, making me cry. Still I left him unanswered.

"ANSWER ME!" He slapped me full across the face. I gasped, and suddenly wondered how I'd missed the tinge of whiskey on his breath and that familiar glint in his eye. And now I'd set him off- how could I have been so selfish? Mum really was in trouble now, and I didn't even want to know what he would do to Elphaba.

"Foolish little girl. I'll go see myself."

He swung open his door, and stormed out into the passage.

"GLINDA! COME HERE!"

Silence.

"GLINDA! WOMAN, I AM YOUR HUSBAND AND YOU WILL OBEY ME!"

He was banging on her door now, the locks straining under the pressure of his weighty forearms. I stood watching from a distance, clutching onto my hair and still crying from his last attack. I was used to him hitting Mum- but he'd never touched me before.

He kicked at the plaster, and the hinges swung open. I followed him into the room, praying harder than I had ever before that Elphaba was gone; that Elphaba had died; _anything_ that would leave Mum in a good position.

But instead, there was nothing. Not a note, not an empty cupboard, not a goodbye. Only the window, the huge West-facing window, open to the night breeze, curtains dancing in the wind, teasing us.

_You I've missed for twelve_.

* * *

**Reviews make my day, and they make for more exciting updates!**


	10. Take Me or Leave Me

**A/N: I had this written for a while, but did anyone else's account just shut them out these last few days? I almost went insane.**

* * *

Freedom was the night air rushing through my coat. Freedom was the tiny sparks of electricity I felt when holding onto her waist. Freedom was the power to just laugh, soaring too high for thought or reason- or remembrance.

But soon the air had chilled me to the bone, my hands were sweating on her jacket and laughter had abandoned me to breathlessness. The city below us, previously so grand in its lights and nightlife, now looked terrifying and accusatory.

"Elphie?"

The wind blocked out my words. They faded into the breeze, wasted breath in the night air. I glanced behind, but I knew that the Chuffrey House would be long gone- along with my Faba. Burying my face into her deep black cloak once again, I closed my eyes and let go of feeling.

***

"_Come with me."_

_To the Emerald City, I finished automatically. It had been just like this, when she'd asked me that first time. My hands were in hers, just like now. Her eyes were just as beautiful back then as they pleaded for me to sucumb. And my heart was just as hopelessly lost._

"_Where?" I whispered, feeling again like a teenager- a lost lamb waiting for her Shepard. She'd taken my ability to stand up for myself, to object, to reason. She'd taken _me_. And yet I was more myself when I was with her then any other time. She was my other half; a half that had been removed once- and I didn't think my body could handle another separation._

"_Away. Together. You said no once, Glinda. You said no, and look what it did to both of us. I cannot leave without you. Not again."_

"_Then don't leave."_

_She looked at me, and I dipped my head. We both knew she couldn't stay. It was an impossibility- the fact that we had remained undiscovered this long was miraculous in itself. We were working on borrowed time. Luck, never on our side, should not be pushed too far._

"_Faba..."_

"_Will be alright."_

"_How can you say that? How could you know?"_

"_She's a kid, Glinda. She'll be perfectly all right. Chuffrey will send her to live with someone nice, shower her with expensive gifts, send her to the best private schools... You know the story. Wouldn't she want her mother to be happy?"_

"_She's my baby, Elphie. My little girl. I can't just _leave_ her."_

"_But you could leave me?"_

_We both knew the answer to that._

_***_

We touched down, in what felt like an eternity later. I slid off the broom and stood, wobbling. My legs felt like jelly; my head swam. Elphaba alighted gracefully, years of practise showing themselves. She faced me with a smile that quickened my already unstable pulse, and all objections seemed to evaporate from my mind.

"You're okay?" she asked, a tenderness in her voice I'd almost forgotten. Before I could answer, she swept me into her arms.

"Put me _down_." I complained. "I feel like a child."

Elphaba smirked. "It's not my fault you're about the size of a five year old."

I folded my arms and pouted dramatically. Elphie laughed again, and started to carry me towards the house of the garden we'd flown into. I looked around, realising that I'd been so caught up in my thoughts (And her, if I was being honest) that I'd barely spared a glance for our surroundings. Now that I did, however, I was less than awed.

"Elphaba. Do you honestly expect me to stay in this dump?"

"I realise, my sweet, that it's not quite the Emerald Palace, but I thought we could fix it up quite nicely, with your- uh- decorative skills and my, um, encouragement. In any case, this is only temporary. Being socially shunned as I am, it's best for us to live nomadically rather than fixedly."

"But there're no _curtains!" _I whined, sorely unimpressed with my future abode. It was a farm, far removed from everything, in the Vinkus, if I'd been paying attention on the flight over. The house (_cottage_, more like) was barren and near derelict, an empty kitchen with a gas stove and a couple of chairs, a modest fireplace and one bedroom containing a single bed, thin mattress and a quilt. Not even one sequin.

"Oh, I'd forgotten what a baby you could be." She shook her head, and plonked me down onto the spindly kitchen table. "Looks like a five year old and acts like one too."

A few hostile moments passed.

"I... I suppose I could... Live, without. The curtains."

She made no reply, still staring pointedly at the burnt fireplace.

"I thought all you wanted was me. That's what you said, Glinda. You said you didn't need any of the stuff that Chuffrey could give you. You know I can't afford... I'm not him. I never will be, and I don't want to. Poverty and love, that's all I have to offer." She turned, her mouth set in a firm line, but her shining eyes soft around the edges. I stood stock still, feeling ridiculous in my flowing gown. "Take me or leave me."

I rushed to her side, and grabbed her face to mine. I stared into her eyes, trying to convey wordlessly all that I felt.

"I love you. I always have. No amount of riches could ever take me from you again." and I kissed her full on the mouth, struggling to show her that I meant it this time. She leaned into the kiss, and I felt the salt of a tear wipe onto my face.

"There's only one bed." I spoke when we broke apart, my heart on fire.

"For God's _sake_Glinda!" Angry again.

I put a finger to her grass green lips. "I like it. Reminds me of that trip on the train, to the Emerald City."

She blushed deep green. She obviously remembered those nights as well as I.

"That's what I thought of too. That trip was so..."

"Free? Naive?"

"Before life got in the way."

"We're together now. And nothing's going to bring us down."

But she heard the lie in my voice. Fabala was back there, and she knew as well as I that I couldn't leave her for good. And one day we'd be found- it wasn't a question of _what if_, it was a question of _when_.

* * *


	11. Fiyero Part 1

**A/N: Thank you to the people who are alerting and favouriting this, but please review too! If you're reading, you should be reviewing too, right? Anyway: So I thought, before I have to sort out the Fabala problem, I'd face another not-so-little elephant (or Elephant) in the room between my dear Gelphie. Yup, Fiyero. I've written this in two parts, but I'll post the second when I'm totally happy with it. I just think it's ridiculous to think that they would be totally happy with each other- I figure they'd fight quite a bit. **

**Postscript: Um, I don't know if I was being too subtle last chapter, but they're staying at Apple Press Farm, for those of you who've read Son of a Witch.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

_

* * *

_

Elphaba. Glinda.

_Glinda. Elphaba._

_Together, physically. But forever apart._

***

"Elphie?"

"Yes, my sweet?"

"What... What really happened between you and Fiyero?"

Glinda the Good and the Wicked Witch of the West sat together, in the light of a heavily burning fire. The window outside showed snow- the only measure of time having passed. The farm kitchen was bare, and shady. No light but that from the fire lit the room. Curtains (a new addition to the abode, sewed at a certain blonde's insistence) were drawn, save for a small crack near the front door, shielding the hidden couple from the world. Inside, it was warm and comfortable. Until Glinda mentioned the tabooed name, and the air turned to ice.

"I don't understand why that would be relevant at the moment, Glinda." she spoke piercingly, a warning in her voice Glinda had heard far too often when attempting to breach this subject.

Glinda considered letting it go. But she had always been too stubborn for her own good. She stood from her chair, placing the badly half-knitted scarf she had been attempting to create, and lingered behind Elphaba's chair, dangling over the back and draping her arms across the green woman's shoulders. Elphie relaxed at the contact, and leaned her head into the crook of Glinda's arm.

"I just," Glinda began, her voice low, "I just need to understand whether or not you loved him."

Elphaba pushed her away, suddenly, a new fury grasping her form.

"I _said_ I don't want to talk about it! Is that all too difficult to understand?"

Glinda backed away, her face twisted with a long standing hurt.

"You do love him. You loved him, and now he's dead. But you still can't give your all to me! I held out for you, Elphaba Thropp! But you, you ran off with pretty boy and left me with a broken heart and a head full of painful memories!"

"Held out? _Held out?_Who skipped off to get married as soon as they left Shiz, who got knocked up by some old _man_ her parents chose?"

Elphaba was on her feet now, too. They faced each other like opposing boxers in a ring, and Glinda was reminded horribly of her many fights with Chuffrey. Could things really be so similar?

But instead, Elphaba let her face fall, and she advanced slowly toward Glinda.

"I'm sorry. That was wrong of me."

Glinda didn't respond. She had nothing left to say.

"Yes. I did love him. But I never loved him as I love you, my sweet."

"You're lying. That's all you ever do." Glinda spoke through thick tears, her vision blurred.

"Do you really want the story? The whole thing? I'll do anything to make you forget. I wish you could."

Glinda looked up at her, feeling smaller than ever.

"Please..."

Elphaba sighed, then gestured for Glinda to take her seat by the fire again. She sunk into her own chair, and began her story, eyes clouded with memory.

* * *

* * *


End file.
